Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Burkina and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Camouflage to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Eden Ahbez. All the underground hits.
All Junior Murvin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suburban Knight record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Girls At Our Best!,
World's Most,
Masters at Work,
Glambeats Corp.,
Fluxion,
Aloha Tigers,
Agitation Free,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Minnie Riperton,
Janne Schatter,
Second Layer,
Wally Richardson,
Henry Cow,
Dead Boys,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Excepter,
The Gun Club,
Skriet,
Tim Buckley,
Flipper,
Ronnie Foster,
Jawbox,
KRS-One,
Quantec,
Ituana,
Symarip,
These Immortal Souls,
Moebius,
The Buckinghams,
Carl Craig,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Bob Dylan,
Make Up,
Cluster,
Sex Pistols,
Blossom Toes,
Mandrill,
8 Eyed Spy,
Yaz,
The Angels of Light,
Quadrant,
Urselle,
The Sound,
Spoonie Gee,
Quando Quango,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Tom Boy,
The Cramps,
Shoche,
Ultimate Spinach,
Ultravox,
Talk Talk,
Howard Jones,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Thompson Twins,
Thee Headcoats,
The Golliwogs,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
ABC,
Oneida, Oneida, Oneida, Oneida.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.